


Telling Time

by godtiermeme



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: (to some degree), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/pseuds/godtiermeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winry Rockbell, an avid tinkerer and mechanics fanatic, is both a rather popular (or, at the very least, well-received) high school senior and a well-known face to many junk shop owners around town. However, when her main source for spare machinery parts is bought out replaced with a parking lot, Winry is forced to find a new shopping spot. Being the only suitable place within ten miles of her home, the family-run R&R Antiques store across the street from her house ends up being her only choice.</p><p>Another high school senior, Edward Elric, just so happens to live in the apartment above this store. Alongside his brother, Alphonse, he also happens to be a frequent worker there. Edward spends most of his time working with clocks and is known as a bit of science freak. However, being more than a little hotheaded and considerably vocal, he's also gained a bit of an unfavourable reputation.</p><p>When the odd pair—Edward and Winry—meet, the two immediately clash. However, seeing as Winry's only option for parts is from the shop Ed works for, there seems to be only two options. The pair could either disagree and bicker forever, or they could at least try and get along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Fullmetal Alchemist fanfic, so it's probably not going to be as fine-tuned as my Homestuck fics in terms of characterisation. Even so, I hope it's okay and, hey, maybe some people might like it. Or maybe not. I don't know. Enjoy, I guess.

The Elric brothers—Ed and Al—were a pair to whom I never really gave any thought for most of my high school career. As far as I was concerned, one was a quick-tempered science nerd in my grade, and the other was that quiet kid who always seemed to gravitate toward the back of the classroom. Aside from these general facts, the only other thing I knew about the seemingly inseparable pair was that they lived in an apartment situated above their family’s dingy little “antique” store across the street from the modest vinyl-sided home my grandmother and I lived in. Really, though it billed itself as an “antique” store, its reputation was as more of a high-end junk store.

R and R antiques was what the shop called itself, with the namesake stylised on the main display window as R&R. I’d never been in the place before, and I always thought of it as a bit of a trash heap in terms of stock. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love junk shops. I frequented them to the point that even the workers who only showed up once every six months knew my name. I went for mechanical parts or scrap machines—broken toys, gadgets, or clocks were my main targets—all of which eventually found their way into one project of mine or another.

About a week into my senior year of high school, however, my main source for old parts went out of business and shut down. Soon thereafter, the entire place was bulldozed to make way for a parking lot. So, naturally, I was forced to look for new places to shop.

Luckily for me, I had a fair few friends who shared my interests. I asked around and, by popular suggestion, ended up being directed to that dingy little shop. The people who recommended it all seemed to agree that the service was generally friendly and the prices, though variable, were mostly fair.

And, so, I found myself standing in front of that shop one windy, rainy autumn day. Partly because my grandmother was out shopping and partly because that store happened to be the closest place to hide from the rain, I ended up forcing myself inside. I stepped over the threshold. Not soon afterwards, as the door clicked shut, I was assaulted by the overwhelming smell of what I could only say was a cross between cigarette smoke and old newspaper. At the same time, the rusty bells strung around the door’s sloppily installed panic bar clanged discordantly to notify whoever was in charge that someone had entered.

However, despite the noise of this unpleasant alert system, no one seemed to show up behind the counter or, for that matter, anywhere in the store. So, I decided to look around. I began by doing a quick scan of the place, looking at some of the signs and labels scattered through the shop. A beaten-up cardboard sign advertising the sale of old clocks caught my attention, and I wandered towards the counter to which the sign was attached.

For the most part, the watches were all too small to be useful for my project. There was a large, clear Rubbermaid bin filled about three-quarters of the way with both broken and functional watches. Both pocket and wristwatches were piled into this bin, though I ignored all of them. Instead, I turned my attentions to the larger clocks.

The range of sizes among the clocks was astounding. In fact, I’d have to say that I’d never seen a store that packed so many different timepieces. There were simple desktop clocks, most of which stood at around six inches to one foot in height. Interspersed with these were a few larger clocks, ranging from the size of a standard bottle of soda to one clock about the size of a small television. Then, scattered all over the wall behind the counter, they had the wall clocks. Not surprisingly, the wall clocks were also of a wide variety of sizes.

It didn’t take long for me to pick one out. It was a rather cute little mantel clock measuring about one and a half feet wide, six inches deep, and six inches tall at its peak. The clock, which comprised about half of the mass of the timepiece, was mounted upon an oblong box covered in detailed images of fantastical landscapes. The glass cover was broken and one of the hands bent slightly, though I deemed these minor problems. They could be easily fixed.

As carefully as possible, I reached out and grabbed my chosen item from its place on the wall-mounted shelf. I pulled it down and looked it over. The base seemed to be made of sturdy wood of some sort, and there were three of the four original claw-foot type supports attached to it. The fourth had been replaced with a crudely crafted wooden block. In the center of this base was the little yellow price tag, which listed the piece at a reasonable ten dollars and thirteen cents.

With my prize in hand, I turned and haphazardly began to wander off to find someone to give my money to in exchange for the clock. And, as I did so, something else caught my eye. Another clock. (I suppose that, at this point, I was on a bit of a clock binge.)

This one was roughly the size of the one in my hand, but it was far more interesting. And, perhaps it was so because I caught it at the right time—as the clock hit five—because, at that point, a quiet hum kicked up from the piece and the detailed birds which seemed, at first, to only be decorative statuary began to move. One danced from branch to branch and opened and closed its wings slightly, while another appeared to peck at the sculpted grass surmounting the golden base. The third bird rocked from one foot to the other and turned it head. At the same time, the clock mimicked birdcalls to the tune of what I could only assume was some old, forgotten song.

After a minute or two, the song died off and the birds returned to their original positions. By then, I was so involved in staring at the wooden backboard of the clock that I didn’t notice that someone was looking at me. In fact, it took me a solid three minutes to finally look up and meet the hazel gaze of a vaguely familiar boy’s face.

What was his name? I chewed on my lip for a moment, combing through my mind for an answer. If I hadn’t been so dazzled by such a spectacular mechanical feat, I probably would have come up with a name earlier but, as it was, I had to ponder for a bit before recalling it. Ed. Edward Elric.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut in before I had a chance. “I go to school with you, don’t I?” was all that he said.

A bit miffed at the fact that I knew his name when he didn’t know mine, I shortly responded, “Yeah,” before setting the clock I’d found on the table he was working on. “I’m Winry Rockbell. I share a few classes with you. You’re Edward Elric, right?”

He shrugged dismissively and stared intently at the singing bird clock. “So, I guess you want to buy something? That clock on the table, probably?” he huffed, prodding his clock with a rusty screwdriver.

“Yes,” was my equally short response.

He, in turn, nodded.

I set the money down, he took it up, and we parted ways without another word. And, at that moment, I prayed that I’d never have to deal with him again. Because, at that point, the only remarkable traits I’d gleaned from his lofty dismissive attitude towards my presence was that he was as big of a self-centred little twit as his reputation said he was.


	2. Chapter 2

Having cooled off from my frustrations against him, I came to the conclusion that I was probably being too hard on him. After all, I didn’t know the guy and he was working on something. Aside from that, I’d used most of my parts.

And, so, I wandered into the shop for the second time. Again, he seemed to be the only one on duty at the time. The clock he had been fixing last time was on display at the front counter and, now, he was sitting beside a phonograph situated beside his counter of clocks. A scratchy song was playing from a beaten-up record and he seemed to be dozing off behind the counter.

As soon as the bells tied to the door rang, though, he woke up. He jumped slightly, sending the supplies on his lap scattering onto the floor and knocking the bracket clock he was working on off the countertop and face first onto the floor.

Instinctively, I rushed over and rapidly collected the clock and the parts which had fallen out of it. I set the clock back on the counter and scanned the floor for any loose bolts. Once I was sure that everything was collected, I turned. I found myself staring at a face which, at that point, was still only vaguely familiar to me, and at an outstretched, white-gloved hand.

“You’re not exactly the most graceful person, are you?” I commented in an effort to ward off the slight warmth I felt in my cheeks.

“Hm,” he shrugged and seemed to brush aside my comment. “You were here a few days ago, weren’t you?”

“Mhm.” I glanced him over once more. For the first time, I noticed that he had long hair. I’m not quite sure how I hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps I never took the time to really look?

“Thought so…” He glanced around as if he was looking for someone and prodded the broken clock set before him. “You’re Winry, right?”

“Yeah.” I distracted myself by looking at the broken clock on the desk. So, he _did_ know my name? “You’re Edward?”

“Just call me Ed,” he responds with an odd little smirk.

I nodded. For a moment, I thought about saying something, though my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bells on the door ringing.

“Al!” Ed exclaimed as I caught a glimpse of the figure framed in the doorway.

Alphonse Elric. (Ed had confirmed this with his outburst, though I had already developed a bit of a hunch that the next person to enter would be the other half of the Elric family.) From what I knew—which wasn’t much—he was the calmer of the pair. He had a much more favourable reputation in school and was known mostly for being that kid who sits in the back of the class.

“Hey, Ed,” his voice was much softer than his brother’s. “Why’re you home so early? I thought you had a meeting with the science club.”

“They cancelled. Some sort of issue with the lab. Some stupid ass thought it was a great idea to screw around during a lab and ended up turning on the emergency shower. The whole room’s flooded, not to mention some of the science hallway,” Ed grumbled. “By the way, Al, I don’t remember your bag being so big. What’s in it?”

Al returned the commentary with a sheepish grin. At the same time, I glanced at the bag which, at this point, had begun to roll about on the floor. “Nothing much. Just my books…”

“Really? And since when do books move?” Ed snickered.

The sheepish grin on Al’s face grew. His gaze drifted further away from his brother’s. “They move when there’s a stray cat in the bag with them…”

“Put it back, Al. We already have five cats. We don’t need another.”

“Okay then… It was worth a try,” Al sighed as he unbuttoned the flap covering the bag’s opening.

“It was. And, next time, try and get a cat that will actually sit still inside your bag.”

At this point, we all watched as the cat darted out the door and into the street. Ed snickered under his breath and Al finally seemed to notice that he wasn’t the only one in the building with Ed.

“Winry? What’re you doing here?” he mumbled, wiping some cat fur off of one of his textbooks.

“Looking for some spare parts for a project,” I shrugged and noted that he had already known my name. This wasn’t exactly a surprising fact, though. Al had a bit of a reputation for knowing practically everyone, and I’d run into him a few time at school. And, by “a few times,” I mean at least ten times more than I’d ever run into Ed.

“Anything in particular that you need?” Al asked, setting aside his bag and wandering towards the counter opposite Ed’s.

“Just a mainspring and some gears. I was guessing that your brother would have them, since he works with clocks, but if you have anything with some inside I’d be happy to take a look,” I replied. At the same time, I took a quick, inconspicuous glance at Ed. By now, he seemed to have given up on conversing and was working on his project. After taking note of this, I returned my attentions to the younger of the two siblings.

“Sorry, then. That’s not my stuff. You’re right, Ed would have it.” He concluded with a simple shrug and a nod to the opposite counter. Then, he pulled out a broken music box and began to tinker with it.

With the problem resolved, I wandered back to Ed’s station. I didn’t exactly want to bother him, seeing as he was currently toying with one of the tiniest sets of gears I’ve ever seen, so I simply grabbed a few cheap clocks, ran them by Al, left the payment, and wandered back home.

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at checking my writing, so feel free to point out any problematic parts. Commentary is also welcome! Leave a kudos if you enjoy it or throw large rocks at my house if you don't. Either way, thanks for reading and/or skipping to the bottom of the page!


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